I was still trying to push the cacophony of intrusive thoughts from my mind as I parked my car in front of my apartment. The neon green light emanating from the console clock informed me that it was 11:18 p.m. I hadn't thought that I would be sleeping in my own bed when I'd left a few hours earlier.
Tears began to well up in my eyes. I was not someone who easily cried, but I was nearing my breaking point. I tried to tell myself that it would all be fine -- that all I needed was a hot shower to clear my head and reset my mood. I exited the car and started the short journey to my apartment. Ironically, it felt like a walk of shame.
I pushed through the door and tossed my keys on a small table that was cluttered with unopened mail. My body steered me towards the kitchen. I looked in the fridge and pulled out a cold beer. I ambled over to the living room and flopped down on the well-worn navy loveseat.
I replayed the evening in my mind. I knew that I really liked Warren; he was caring, funny, and extremely fucking hot. I just couldn't figure out why I could go from laughing and nestling into his side when we were at the restaurant to feeling completely panicked when he invited me to "crash" at his place.
It had been our third date, and I had told myself that I finally wanted to do more than just make out. I had imagined going back to his place and cuddling while we watched something on Netflix. I knew what he felt like since I had already let my hands explore his body on our second night out. I had planned on being brave; I'd resolved to do something I had never done before, but my fear had won out in the end.
I looked around the small room. It was pretty cramped with the loveseat, a beanbag chair, a large television, and a generic Ikea coffee table. An overturned beer can was resting in a puddle of amber liquid on the table's faux wood finish. Normally I would have gotten up and cleaned it to prevent damage, but I just didn't care at that moment.
I replayed the conversation of me telling Warren that I couldn't stay over because I had a huge midterm in my chemistry class. He had been crestfallen as he'd taken it in; I had been certain that he had expected things to go to the next level tonight as well. I wondered what was wrong with me; why was I so damaged that I hadn't been able to do more than make out with another guy? I knew it wasn't normal for a guy who had just turned nineteen to struggle with being physically intimate.
The tears started to flood back into my eyes as I took a swig of beer, trying to numb myself. I couldn't hold them back any longer. I started crying; I didn't even try to stifle the sobs. A part of me wanted to embrace the sadness.
"Hey..." I heard a tentative voice say from behind me.
I immediately suppressed my sobbing, although the tears continued to stream down my cheeks. My head pivoted to better see the opening to the hallway; my roommate, Chase, was standing there. It looked like he had just got out of the shower. He had a white towel wrapped around his waist and his hair was still dewy.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
"I, um, I thought you were going out tonight," I said, in an attempt to shift attention away from the fact that I was crying.
I rubbed both of my hands against my face. I breathed in deeply and told myself to pull it together. I had plenty of practice pushing my emotions aside, so I tried to tap into that wellspring of shitty experience. I attempted to feign a smile; I had to bite the inside of my lower lip to keep it from quivering.
"I just wasn't feeling it tonight," Chase said. "I thought I'd rather go for a run instead."
Chase meandered over to the loveseat; he was looking down at me from his standing position. The light fixture above him caused his spiky, dark red hair to flicker as he moved his head. He had alabaster skin with a smattering of pale blue veins that were barely visible on his large biceps. From my seated position, I had to crane my neck in order to maintain eye contact. He was easily over six feet tall.
I had met Chase at the beginning of sophomore year. Neither of us had won the lottery for on-campus housing so we'd both been trying to find somewhere else to reside. I had originally planned to live with my roommate from the dorms, but at the last minute, he'd decided to withdraw from the university. Chase had had a similar experience, except his roommate had decided to live at home because he had lost his part-time job and wouldn't be able to afford rent.
We had found each other through the college's website aimed at helping students connect with housing resources. I hadn't thought that we would be a good fit at first. I was a focused pre-med student who also happened to be gay. Chase was a self-described 'guy's guy' who played on the baseball team and spent more time socializing than attending class.
"Can I sit down?" he asked.
I looked at his defined abs, which were right in front of my face at that moment. I thought about how Warren, too, had an incredible physique. I wondered how everyone around me seemed to have the perfect body. I felt a tinge of jealousy that quickly gave way to admiration.
Chase must have taken my silence as permission, because he lowered himself onto the loveseat. It sagged as it accommodated the additional weight; we both slid into one another so that our thighs were touching.
I took another drink of my beer before placing it on the coffee table. Again, I patted at my cheeks just to reassure myself that the tears had dried. My eyes burned a little as they recovered; I knew that they must look blood-shot to Chase.
"What's going on, Kyle?" he asked.
"I don't know," I said. "It's all just a mess."
I wasn't surprised that I let down my defenses so easily. In the few months we had known one another, Chase had really challenged my expectations and shown himself to be a true friend. When I had found out that my grandmother had unexpectedly died, he'd been a major source of comfort. I couldn't think of any other straight guy that would let a friend cry into his shoulder while hugging him for a solid five minutes. He had even pulled me closer into him when my legs had started to wobble.
We would often chill in the living room playing video games or watching movies when neither of us had something better to do. Initially I'd been reserved. Chase had taken the first steps to strike up a deeper relationship by telling me about his strained relationship with his father, and things had progressed from there.
"You know that guy, Warren, that I told you about? Tonight was our third date and it didn't go well. I really like him, but I think he's just too good for me. I'm not sure if I really deserve to be in a relationship. Maybe I need to just devote all of my time to school instead of thinking about guys."
I felt the tears welling up again. I focused my energy on stopping them from pouring over the brim of my lower eyelids. A single tear pushed through and slowly trickled down my cheek. Chase raised his large hand and gently wiped it away with his thumb.
"I don't think any of that is true, Kyle. Warren isn't perfect, and you are pretty amazing yourself. I'm sure that he isn't managing to get straight A's like you, even though he's majoring in communications. I just don't understand how you can't see what a good catch you are."
Chase draped his arm around my shoulder, pulling me a little closer. I thought about resting my head on him but I resisted the urge. He smelled nice; I had never paid much attention to his natural body odor.
"You're just saying that to be nice. And it really doesn't matter in this situation. I mean, I know that I'm smart; that has never been my problem. It's just that there's such a huge discrepancy between Warren and me in other areas. He's a solid nine and I'm a five, at best."
